Emma: Sounds great, but my sister just arrived. She’s staying the night. Wasn’t expecting her…will explain later.
Samuel: Bring her too. All are welcome
Emma: You don’t know Lindsey. Rain check for Wednesday?
Samuel: Wednesday?
Emma: It’s the next night I have off.
Samuel: I am not waiting until Wednesday to see you.
Emma: You’ll see me tomorrow bright and early at the barn.
Samuel: So you’ll let me eat your pussy there?
Emma: No.
Samuel: My point exactly. I wanna see you again. Tonight. Sneak out. Don’t make me beg.
Emma: Trust me, I’d love nothing more. But I gotta hang with Lindsey.
Samuel: Okay. Can I call you later?
Emma: Sure. I can’t promise I’ll be able to answer, but I’ll try.
Samuel: I can’t stop thinking about you. I hope you have a great day with your sister.
Reading that last text, my chest aches. What do I say? That I can’t stop thinking about him either, but I’m not sure I can envision a future for us that doesn’t threaten the financial and professional stability I want so badly for myself? That I’m actually meeting up with another man in the hopes I can envision that future with someone else?
Emma: I miss you.
I look up at the knock on my bedroom door. “Em? Hey, Em, you all right in there? You need any help?”
I’m about to slam my laptop shut when I see a message from Blue pop up. Tonight works. Same place, maybe an earlier time so we get out before the roads ice over again?
I quickly type Yes. Think you can get a 6 PM at Cucina?
He replies right away. Absolutely. See you then.
“Coming!” I say.
I hop off the bed and open the door. Lindsey’s standing in the kitchen, wineglass tilted back.
“You okay?” she asks.
I grab the glass she’s poured for me off the counter and take a fortifying swig. “I’m great. Hey, this is gonna sound nuts. But how would you feel about coming downtown with me tonight to meet this guy I’ve been sexting with on the internet?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Samuel
I had hoped to work out alone today.
Mostly because I want to think about Emma. How it felt waking up next to her. The sounds she made as she demolished the dinner I made for her. The weight of her tits in my hands and the taste of her skin and the way she looks me in the eye when she’s giving me head.
I also need to figure out how I’m gonna tell V that not only does the cybersex have to end, but so does the possibility of dating outside our chat room. Do I go with the old, it’s not you, it’s me thing? Because that’s not entirely a lie. It really is me.
I’ve fallen for someone else. It happened literally overnight.
Or, really, it happened slowly, over the course of several weeks. And then, just like that after a night of incredible sex and vulnerable truths, I’m head over heels for the woman I swore I’d always hate.
I feel a little guilty leading V on, which is part of the reason I agreed to meet her tonight. That, and the fact that Emma is busy. Regardless, this is a conversation I should probably have in person. I respect V, and I really have enjoyed the time we’ve spent chatting. She’s special, and I want to tell her that face-to-face.
I also want to personally thank her for prying me open. She’s the one who first encouraged me to be honest and real. Without her, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to open up to Emma. And if that hadn’t happened…
Well, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Falling for an incredible woman, feeling whole and happy for the first time in forever.
Passing Daddy’s trophy case, I smile. I’m one hundred percent certain he’d be proud of me. I know I’m becoming the man he raised me to be.
And that feels pretty fucking great.
But it’s not so great finding my brothers already hard at work in my gym. Beau is doing leg lifts in a corner; Hank is dripping sweat while kicking the shit out of my boxing dummy, who we’ve un-affectionately nicknamed Olly.
“What the fuck are y’all doing here?” I growl, grabbing a towel from the pile beside the door and flipping it over my shoulder. “Don’t you have your own damn gyms to work out in?”
“Baby’s sleeping,” Beau grunts.
Hank keeps one gloved hand glued to his cheek while he begins pummeling Olly’s eyeless face with the other. “I was overwhelmed with shit, so I needed to blow off some steam. This weekend’s been insane.”
“So y’all came here to harass me. Great.”
“Hey.” Beau spears me with a look. “It’s only fair, considering you’re the one who’s always pestering everyone else. Where the hell have you been?”
Hank stops punching Olly. “Yeah. Where have you been? No one’s heard a peep from you since you left the barn yesterday.”
I look at Beau. “I picked up your call this morning, didn’t I?”
“I mean none of us have heard from you. The family. Mom thought for sure you were dead somewhere on the side of the road.”
Shit, how did I forget to text Mom back?
Because I was too busy making love to Em. Right.
I make a mental note to text Mom when I’m done with my workout, and then I grab a pair of dumbbells.
“I’m alive. But if y’all don’t get gone, one or both of you might not be.”
“You brought someone home, didn’t you?” Beau asks, grinning.
But Hank’s expression is wary. “Did you, Samuel?”
Beau wouldn’t be grinning if he knew who I took home. In fact, he’d probably grab those gloves from Hank and punch my face.
I forgot I need to iron that little detail out too. Considering what a dope he’s been about the whole Annabel situation, maybe he’ll have a little sympathy for my less-than-stellar decision-making when it comes to Emma.
Wait. I refuse to think opening up to Emma was a bad decision. Telling her I wanted to fuck her without a condom? Meh, maybe that’s a little reckless. But I stand by my decision to tell her how I feel, and to share what I want.
At the end of the day, I just want her.
Thankfully, I’m saved from answering my brothers’ questions when Beau’s phone chimes loudly. He immediately stops what he’s doing and digs the phone out of his pocket.
“Baby’s up, and Annabel’s hungry.” He blanks the screen and drops the phone back into his pocket. “Gotta run. Y’all be good. Samuel, I’ll give you a call later to check in on how things are going in the kitchen.”
“So far, so good,” I reply, already breathless from the seven bicep curls I’ve done. Granted, I’m using a fuck ton of weight. But damn, maybe sex with Em is exercise enough for the day. “They’re slammed with room service requests, but I called in a few favors from friends downtown—most restaurants there are closed, so their employees are available for extra work. Got two dishwashers and four sous chefs, plus a pâtissier from that bakery you love so much on Biltmore. I offered to jump on the line myself, but Chef Katie just laughed at that. So I put calls in to our suppliers to assure them the roads on the way up here are plowed. Generators are operational, and we’ve got plenty of dry wood for the smokers. We’re making it work.”
Beau pats my shoulder on his way out of the room. “Good work, brother.”
My heart twists. Part pride. Part guilt. If only he knew the kind of work I was doing with our sommelier this morning.
Whatever. I’ll figure out how to make Beau see the light about Emma and me. In the meantime, I just gotta get through today.
Hank and I are quiet during our workouts. Normally, that silence doesn’t bother me. Hell, most times I don’t even notice it. But this afternoon, it feels off. Maybe because Hank is beating the shit out of Olly, throwing punch after punch after punch. Sweat flies everywhere, and his face is bright red.
“You okay?” I ask.
He cuts me a look. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine. Talk to me.”
“I’d rather not.”
I hold up my hands. “Your call. But I’m here if you want to tell me about this girl who’s bothering you.”
“Who says it’s a girl?” Hank wipes his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.
“I do. I haven’t seen you like this”—I nod at the sweat covering the floor at his feet—“in an age.”
“It’s nothing.” He delivers a stinging blow to Olly’s left kidney. “Just a shitty situation. Love sucks.”
I arch a brow. “That all you’re gonna give me?”
“Yup.” He goes silent again, the only noise the slap of his gloves as they meet with Olly’s increasingly battered body.
“Do you want some food? I’ve got leftover lasagna in my fridge. And a pint of that peanut butter cup ice cream I made for Milly’s birthday.”
“You don’t have plans for dinner?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just offering you some good shit in your time of need, that’s all.”
“Do you?” He pauses. “Have plans tonight?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I do. Why?”
He starts jabbing Olly again. “No reason.”
I roll my eyes. Hank isn’t usually a drama queen—in fact, he’s the opposite—so I’ll give him a little space to figure out whatever shit he’s got going on. I grab my phone and turn on a playlist, Drake blasting through the speakers in the ceiling. Determined to mind my own damn business.
But as I watch Hank pummel Olly, I can’t help but feel there’s something desperate about the way he punishes the dummy.
He’s punishing himself.
Clearly, he’s hurting over this girl. Since he won’t tell me what happened, all I can gather is that she broke his heart.
That does suck. As much of a pain in the ass as my brother can be, I love him, and I want him to be happy. Now that I know how fucking great love feels, I want him to find it too.
* * *
I arrive at the restaurant twenty minutes early. I order a Manhattan and a water, and try not to chug both as I wait. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I fell for someone else on purpose. It just happened.
Besides. Maybe this makes me sound like a dick, but V is a stranger. She’ll be a stranger after we part ways tonight. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.
I just have a bad feeling about this that I can’t shake. Maybe that’s why I finish the water and most of the Manhattan by—I check my watch—five till.
Shit. It’s not even time yet. I just want to get this over with already.
Leaving the CD on the table just in case V happens to arrive while I’m gone, I dart to the bathroom, praying all the while that this goes smoothly so I can head home to talk to Emma. I haven’t seen her since this morning, and I miss her. Yet another sign that what I’m about to do is the right call.
Just as I’m closing the stall door behind me, my phone rings. My stomach flips. Is it V? Did she somehow get my number?
Or is it Emma?
God, I hope it’s Emma.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, furrowing my brow when I see it’s Chef Katie calling.
That can’t be good.
“We have a situation here,” she says without preamble. “We’re out of butter.”
“What?” I let out an aggravated sigh. “What the fresh hell is this shit?”
“I don’t know, Samuel. Could be half our suppliers are shut down. Could be we’re at full capacity. Or it could be people carb loading on bread and butter in their rooms. Whatever the case, it is definitely hell.”
Plucking at my closed eyes with my thumb and forefinger, I slam down the toilet cover and land heavily on top of it. “All right. Let’s talk this through.”
Chapter Thirty
Emma
Despite the salt that covers the sidewalk, it’s still a little slippery, especially when you’re teetering on four-inch heels.
By the grace of God, and with a small assist from my sister, I make it to Cucina’s door. My heart is pounding. Part exertion, part extreme nervousness.
I can’t tell if I want my date with Blue to be a bust or not. If it is, I can dive headfirst into a relationship with Samuel. No what-ifs, no second-guesses.
Of course, going that route puts the stability and the success I crave in serious peril.
If my date with Blue goes well, then there’s a chance I won’t have to face said peril, because I can possibly be with a man I don’t work with, and who doesn’t have the power to destroy my future and my reputation. I don’t mean to sound flippant. It’s just the reality of my situation.
But then I’ll have to choose between Samuel and Blue. And something tells me no matter how much is at stake, I don’t want to have to put an end to the incredible connection Samuel and I share. Because last night was beautiful. It was honest and raw in all the best ways, and my heart twists at the thought of abandoning him just when he’s stopped abandoning himself.
Even now, dizzy with nerves, those butterflies take flight in my stomach at the memory of his words.
You live fearlessly, and you’ve inspired me to do the same.
What we have is once-in-a-lifetime stuff.
I wanna be inside you without a condom.
My pussy clenches at that last one. When Samuel is real, he’s really fucking sexy.
But I’m not here to see Samuel. I’m here to meet Blue. And I promised myself I’d give this date a real shot.
“You okay?” Lindsey asks. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Em.”
I nod. “No, I’m okay. Thanks again for coming. I appreciate the moral support.”
“I appreciate the chance to hang with you.” She loops her arm through mine and grabs the door handle. She’s been hyper all day, but every time I tried to get her to open up, she closed that shit down fast. “Ready?”
Pulling back my shoulders, I take a deep breath.
“Ready.”
We step inside. A warm gust of air greets us, fragrant with the scents of rosemary and a wood-burning fire. Cucina is famous for its incredible gourmet pizzas and pasta dishes, most of which are cooked in the enormous wood-burning oven custom ordered from Italy, and I wish I was even the tiniest bit hungry because the food here is good.
I resist the urge to pluck at my jeans and smooth my hair. I was kinda sorta able to make the beachy wave thing happen today, so I don’t want to mess it up.
“All righty. I’ll be at the bar.” Lindsey nods in that direction. “You know the mayday signal if you need anything.”
I grin at the memory of our conversation in the car. Linds told me to give her the finger if things went south with Blue. Because that won’t be obvious or anything.
“And you give me the signal if you need me to hold back your hair. You had a lot of sauv blanc today.”
Lindsey shrugs. “I’m practically pickled by this point in my life. Y’all enjoy.”
She sashays to the bar, greeting the bartender with a wide smile and a fifty-dollar bill.
I turn toward the dining room. I pull the green apple out of my pocket, feeling foolish. The idea seemed cute when we were chatting about it, but now the apple just feels silly.
Whatever. Too late to go back now.
I glance around the restaurant. It’s mostly empty, thanks to the weather and the early-ish hour. There’s a couple of chatting at a high-top table next to the open kitchen, and a few groups dining by the steel windows at the back of the restaurant.
And then there’s a guy standing beside a table in a nearby corner. My stomach dips at the vaguely familiar outline of broad biceps and broad shoulders that strain against his blue sweater.
He makes a quarter turn, and the first thing my eyes catch on is the CD case in his hand.
The second thing is his face. Straight nose, square, clean-shaven jaw, full lips. Close-cropped hair that’s a shade lighter than Samuel’s.
Holy shit, it’s Hank.
/> Hank is here. In a blue sweater. Holding a CD.
Holy shit, Hank is Blue. What the fuck are the chances?
A yawning roar fills my body, gathering in my ears.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. This is bad.
Or is it? My mind races to figure out what the hell this actually means as the saliva thickens in my mouth.
It means I’ve been having cybersex with Samuel’s brother. It means I’ve been sharing intimate truths—and even more intimate body parts—with not one, but two Beauregard brothers. It means I’m in love with Samuel because while Hank is wonderful, we definitely don’t have the same chemistry that Samuel and I do. It means I may have to crush Hank, who could in turn crush my career.
It means I’m fucked.
We are all so, so fucked. Someone’s going to get hurt. Badly. If not all three of us.
Grabbing the nearby hostess stand to steady myself, I try to breathe through the panic whirling through my center.
What if Hank is cool about all this? His feelings for V could very well be casual. Maybe he’ll see me and laugh, and then I’ll laugh, and we can agree over drinks that the universe has a very twisted sense of humor.
But I’ll have to tell him about Samuel. Or will I? What will he say? What will he say to his family? The staff?
I nearly jump at the thunk by my feet. Looking down, I realize I dropped the apple. I look back up to see Hank staring at me.
My pulse seizes. He’s got this look in his eyes—it’s hurt and adoration and anger, and I know that what’s about to go down will hurt. Because he’s hurting.
He’s also looking at me the way Samuel did last night. His eyes sweep down my body and back up again, and when they meet mine, they burn.
My mind starts scrambling again. Hank’s been so kind to me. Helpful. The way he kept looking at me during my tasting with Samuel, and the way he looked at me during my tasting with him. How he always seems to be at The Barn Door when I am. I like you, Emma.
Maybe that like has turned into something more.
Southern Hotshot: A North Carolina Highlands Novel Page 24
